Diane was sitting in her room with Sally, letting her brush her straight hair. Outside it was snowing. Hard.
"Are you like pinkie pie?" Sally asked.
"Sure, if pinkie pie was blood thirsty and killed as much as I do." She responded. Sally twisted her lip to the side.
"Is She like, your ghost?" Sally asked.
"I'm her sister."
"Do you talk to her?"
"No."
"Oh."
Diane and Sally were quiet. Sally caught a knot in her hair and She whined.
"Sorry." Sally said, cringing and shrugging.
"Don't sweat it kid." Diane said. Sally hesitated before brushing again. Sally let her eyes drift around at the light yellow walls. Then back at the white table mirror. Diane gently had her eyes closed.
"Do you...want to talk to pinkie pie more?" Sally asked. Diane opened her eyes and looked around, then closed them again.
"Sometimes. I miss her. But she'd never be able to understand what I do." She sighed. Sally poked her lip out and nodded.
"But," Diane added, "sometimes I want her guts draped over the wall." Sally giggled. Diane smiled.
"The snow is pretty... like your hair." Sally said.
"Thanks, I like yours." Diane said. They were both quiet.
"I'm done." Sally said. Diane opened her eyes and turned her head for different angels of her hair.
"Thanks, kiddo." Diane said. Sally nodded. Her and Diane slumped down on her bed and watched tv until they both fell asleep...
